


Act Natural

by aurics



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Abe is a confused little duckling and Mihashi is just eager to please, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Haircuts, M/M, What's new, a lot of Abe monologue lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abe needs a haircut, and Mihashi (eagerly) 'steps up to the plate'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act Natural

**Author's Note:**

> Super experimental first abemiha fic lmao!! Sorry for any ooc huhu I love these two a lot re-watching Oofuri always makes my heart warm

“Don’t you think it’s getting a little too long?"

 

They’ve just finished practice and the boys have packed away their equipment in record speed, eager to go home after an entire day of rigorous practice. High-strung nerves had electrified their training session, but Momoe — being the usual wonder she is — had loosened them up considerably, simmering the tension down to an enhanced competitive spirit. It’s nothing out of the norm; they _are_ nearing the end of another term, after all. Looming academic obligations coupled with pressing clubs duties would drive any teenage boy slightly mad. 

 

But right now Abe has other, albeit admittedly trivial, concerns — and he’s decided to seek advice from the one person he can come close to ‘confiding’ with (although why it’s _him_ in particular, Abe can’t explain himself).

 

“Uh… Well… Um, if Abe-kun thinks so…”

 

He stops fiddling with a strand of flyaway hair occupying his forehead and frowns. It takes all of Abe's self-restraint not to bark out his response. “No, Mihashi. I want to know what _you_  think."

 

The boy in question visibly flinches a little, but steadies himself enough for Abe to feel less guilty about scaring the daylights out of his pitcher. God, he really needs to get the hang of _conversing_ with Mihashi real soon. “W-Well… Sometimes when you’re practicing… I can see that it gets in the way. Of your sight. A little."

 

He lets out a sigh. “I’m not sure if I have time to go and get my hair cut. Who’s least likely to mess up cutting hair on the team, do you think?"

 

Maybe it’s the ever-sinking sun, but Mihashi’s face seems to turn a deeper shade of scarlet. Just ever so slightly. “I — I can do it for Abe-kun… if it’s okay?"

 

“You’ve done this sort of thing before?” Abe quirks an eyebrow.

 

  
_Not really_ , but Mihashi nods anyway. Abe doesn’t need to know that he has only ever cut his own hair before. He still feels bad for frustrating the catcher during practice today with his tired arm. He’s been throwing several wildly inaccurate pitches today and only a handful of acceptable ones, consequently slowing down the entire team's progress. If they underperform during their next match, he knows it would be no one’s fault but his.

 

Naturally, Mihashi’s eager to help in any way he can — even if it has nothing to do with baseball.

 

“I’ll get the scissors!” 

 

“Wait, wait,” Abe blurts out, flustered. “Right now?"

 

“It’s better for Abe-kun to see clearly tomorrow… right?"

 

Mihashi has a point, so Abe shrugs and sits himself down on one of the benches, facing the open field and the now orange sky. There’s a slight breeze that musses up his hair but he manages to splay it out, displaying its slightly offensive length. His eyes droop to a close of their own volition, helped by the glare of the sun.

 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” Abe feels the need to clarify. “I just need it to be of an… acceptable… length…"

 

His speech falters, because the second he opens his eyes Mihashi is there, _so close_ , his sunglow-coloured eyes big and wide and staring straight at him. The close proximity gives Abe access to count the faint freckles on his cheek and practically trace lines on his pale, pale skin — not that Abe is doing any of those things. Nor is his heart doing tiny somersaults in his chest, fueled by the warm affection he can feel seeping into his being. Definitely not. 

 

It's Mihashi; his teammate, the member he’s most responsible for, and right now, his makeshift hairdresser. Abe has no time or reason to do anything stupid, so he quickly pushes such thoughts away.

 

“Got it,” Mihashi replies, the scissors he’s retrieved from his backpack already in hand. “Keep… keep still, Abe-kun."

 

Mihashi's next actions are wordless — from the soft touch of his palm flattening Abe’s hair to the gentle brush of his fingers as he snips strand after strand. While Mihashi works away at the hair covering his eyes, Abe racks his brain trying to find possible topics of conversation. But whether it be a blessing or a curse, those topics don’t really stray far away from baseball.

 

“Is your arm okay? Are you leaving it to rest well? What about your fingers? I saw a few of them with cuts today. You better have bandaged them. And don’t even get me started on _sunburns_."

 

There’s a breathy laugh somewhere near Abe’s left ear that sounds much like an exasperated laugh. The puff of air sends a small shiver down Abe’s back. “I’m doing my best to — I mean, watching out for injuries. I took care of them all. I don’t want to… Abe-kun shouldn’t worry —"

 

“Nonsense,” he cuts off, already irritated at Mihashi’s habitual retaliation. “We need you to be in top shape. I can’t imagine —“ _having to play without you_ is at the tip of his tongue, but Abe bites it back just as the blades snip to a close again. He reroutes, opting for the safer road. “Just… don’t trouble anyone, alright."

 

It comes out a little harsher than he intended, if the unsteady grip on the hair on his nape is any indication. He doesn't mean to sting Mihashi so — he never does. But he rarely ever apologises for his slip-ups, too.

 

“I — I won’t.” Warm fingers trace the back of his neck, almost like a caress. “I won’t."

 

Mihashi ends up doing a pretty good job of trimming Abe’s hair. Using the front camera of his phone, Abe silently admires his teammate’s handiwork while humming in approval. 

 

“Nicely done. I think I’ll just have you cut my hair instead of my mum from now on."

 

Mihashi’s face explodes into a cherry-red colour, smile almost bursting at the seams with pride as he chuckles a little to himself. “R-Really? I’m glad."

 

“It’s pretty dark now.” Abe puts away his phone after a few silent seconds, slings his bag over his shoulder and pretends his chest hasn’t constricted at the sight of Mihashi smiling so openly. “Let’s go back."

 

“Mmm,” Mihashi nods in assent, arms swinging a little in delight.

 

For one crazy moment, Abe thought about grabbing his hand and locking their fingers together. In a protective manner, of course — nothing of the romantic sort. And as Mihashi faces Abe to tell him about his favourite pitching moments, still glowing despite the absence of the sun, Abe thinks that he is very happy — and very lucky — to have agreed to the haircut today.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
